Poetry · Writing

success magazine; mothra

i collect memories

store ’em in a binder

under my bed

deep under past the monster

blow the dust away

they start early

half eaten by moths or accidents

birthdays and birthdays

a success photo shoot

that fucking kid billy that i hated

(take that one out real quick)

flip to the back to these empty pages

no dust no moths no sad endings- yet

a place i come often

a sweet reminder that the previous pages

don’t tell the end

moths will get to them just like the beginning

will put it back, with out guardian monster

take our books, pens and camera to the park

and look for butterflies

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